


The Black Dog

by Kalajorn



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Death Omen, Gen, the grim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7497867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalajorn/pseuds/Kalajorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When I first saw the black dog it was from a distance and I assumed it was just a stray. It was following an older lady down the street. The next day she died. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Later I saw it at the cemetery when I was looking for ghosts. It was sleeping among the graves. I got close enough to see that while it looked normal its eyes were wrong. A glazed over white like that of a dead thing. As I approached it I began to feel listless and depressed. It vanished before I could investigate any farther.”</p>
<p>-From the Journals of Stanford Pines on “The Grim”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Black Dog

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Joml AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/213531) by notllorstel. 



* * *

Stanley let out a groan as he set down a heavy box of scrap metal on the porch. He intertwined his fingers and stretched, popping his back. The portal was truly hard work to fix. It had been ten years since he had started. Every year that went past without his brother was painful. Was Stanford even still alive? More than anything Stan feared that he would bring back a corpse. That was if he could get the blasted thing running again.

The sun dipped closer to the cliffs on the opposite side of the valley, casting dark shadows over the porch. A chill began to develop in the air. Stan tugged his jacket tighter around him. He slipped into the house and grabbed himself a beer and a sandwich and then returned to the porch. He sat heavily down on the couch next to the box of metal. After all this time he didn’t really like being in the house. It felt wrong, as if by getting too comfortable he was somehow acknowledging that this was permanent and he was never getting Stanford back.

He popped the top of his can of beer and took a sip. The chill in the air increased as the sun vanished completely. The porch lamp buzzed softly, casting a circle of warm yellow light into the darkness.

Something moved just out of the light.

Stan nearly dropped his beer, but managed to set it down carefully. He reached under the couch to grab his baseball bat and stood up. One could never be too careful. Even though he had faked his death he wouldn’t be surprised to see one of his old “friends” dropping by. Anyway, this was Gravity Falls, who knew what was out in the woods?

“Show yourself,” He snarled, eyes straining to pierce the shadows.

After a moment a dog moved into the light. It was a gaunt thing. Its ribs were visible through its lank black coat. Its eyes were what truly drew his attention. They were a glazed white, somehow they seemed to stare directly into Stan, even though he knew the dog must be blind.

Suddenly he felt an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and despair. His heart twinged painfully as memories of many times he himself had been close to death, whether by starvation or deliberate assault, came to mind.

Stan set down the bat and dropped into a crouch. He held out a hand and whistled. The dog cocked its head. It continued to watch him.

“Here, boy,” Stan tried to make his gruff voice gentle.

Without taking his eyes off the dog he reached back and grabbed his sandwich. He held it out toward the creature.

“You’re hungry. Aren’t you, boy? I know the feeling. C’mon. It’s for you.”

He stood up a little bit and took a slow step forward. The dog took a step back in response and seemed to melt into the night.

Stan put the sandwich back on the plate and left it out with a bowl of water before going to bed.

* * *

Stan yawned as he walked out onto the porch. None of the parts he had gathered yesterday worked for the portal, so he would be going scavenging again today.

As he stepped over the threshold his foot bumped against something. He looked down and saw it was the plate that the sandwich had been on. It was empty.

_Maybe he came back,_ Stan thought, a smile forming on his face.

Of course it could always just be a raccoon or a coyote, but he had a feeling it was the little bugger. He picked up the plate and the mostly empty bowl of water and brought them inside.

Stan put on thick clothes and gloves and drove out to the junkyard. He pulled his car to a stop in front of the sheet metal gates and turned off the engine. As he got out of the car a shiver went down his spine. He looked around, pulse quickening slightly, but saw nothing.

Inside the junkyard, he began hunting around for metal poles. He had realized early on that the portal used a standard of screw that he had never seen before in his life, so he couldn’t just buy or shoplift them from the store, he had to make his own ones. Honestly, he felt exasperated with Ford. Of course the nerd had to make things more complicated.

He spotted a nice metal rod underneath a dilapidated green tractor. Gingerly Stan knelt down on the scrap metal and retrieved it. While he was down, he spotted another longer piece wedged under a tire a little farther underneath. He started to carefully pry it loose.

He felt something wet and cold touch his ankle and rolled out quickly out from under the tractor. When he had righted himself, he saw that it was the black dog from last night. Carefully he took a step toward it. The dog retreated a few steps more and then stopped, waiting. Stan approached slowly.

A log truck when by shaking the ground under them. Suddenly there was a loud rattle and a boom. Stan turned around just in time to see the tractor sink into the ground. Shock and adrenaline coursing through him, he moved to a new position so he could get a look at it without getting too close.

There had been a large piece of plywood under the machine, Stan noticed after a moment. The part of it Stan could see looked rotten. Stan trying to get the pole loose followed by the log truck going by must have been the final stress needed to collapse it into the hidden hole underneath.

Cold shock ran through his system as Stan realized that if he had been still under there he would have died. If it wasn’t for that dog…

The dog!

Stan spun around looking for the shaggy black mutt and saw that it was nowhere to be seen.

_The noise must have frightened him,_ Stan thought.

Stan glanced at the tractor again and shuttered. He would have to be more careful in the future, he probably wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

* * *

That night when he was eating dinner on the porch, the dog showed up again. This time he had an extra plate prepared. He sent it on the ground beside him and waited. Slowly, hesitantly, the dog approached. Eventually it stopped and sniffed the sandwich. After a moment it took a bite and then hungrily wolfed down the rest of it. When it was finished, it sat back on its haunches and watched Stan quietly.

When Stan had finished his own dinner he gently held out a hand to it. The dog sniffed him and then cocked its head, tongue lolling out of its mouth in a doggy smile.

Stan reached out and stroked its head. Its tail thumped happily against the deck and it snuggled up against his legs. He smiled. It was odd, but the dog felt like an old friend. It was as if it was someone he had seen often, but was just getting to meet for the first time.

* * *

_21 years later_

Ford heaved his things into the spare bedroom and then walked back downstairs. He and Stanley had just returned from their voyage to spend the rest of the summer in Gravity Falls. The niblings had arrived ahead of them and were talking their ears off about everything that happened since they had last seen each other and were peppering them with hundreds of questions about their adventures out at sea.

He heard a cheerful humming and saw Stanley getting ready to remove the last of their things from the trunk. Movement in the bushes caught his eyes and he felt his blood go cold.

“Stanley! Come over here! Now!”  He yelled.

Stanley Jumped at Ford’s frantic tone. Habits born of long months at sea at sea kicked in and he darted to his brother’s side. He spun around fists at the ready.

“What is it?” He asked, tensely scanning their surroundings for the threat.

“Over there,” Ford said in a low voice.

He pointed to the shaggy black dog he had spotted coming out of the bushes. One might have mistaken it for a normal dog if it were not for the dead white eyes and the aura of dread and melancholy that hung around it. Its breath came out in little puffs of steam as if the air was somehow colder near it.

He need to make sure they were in a safe place with lots of medical supplies and prepare for the worst. Who knew what the kind of doom the dog was foreshadowing…

“Inky?” Stanley’s surprised voice cut off Stanford’s frantic thoughts.

The dog wagged its tail at the name and trotted toward them. Its smooth gait made it look as if it was floating over the grass.

Stan smiled and lowered his fists, moving toward the shaggy black animal. He gently ran his hand over its smooth head.

“Where have you been, ya rascal?” He said fondly.

Inky panted happily, looking up at him with wide unblinking eyes.

“Stanley?”

Stan looked over his shoulder to see Stanford staring at him in shock.

“That’s a Grim…” Stanford said slowly.

“A what now?” Stanly asked, tousling the animal’s ears.

“A Grim. A _death_ omen,” Stanford’s voice came out strained.

How did his brother think that animal was normal?

“They show up when someone’s about to die,” He clarified farther, hoping Stanley would get the hint and move away from the creature.

He watched as Stanley contemplated the animal before him.

“Well, I almost had a tractor fall on me the day after I met him, but this little guy led me away… Must have known and decided to save me… Good boy!”

He nonchalantly patted the dog’s head. He chuckled as Inky gave his knuckles a lick and leaned against his legs.

“You befriended the Grim?!”

Stanford didn’t even know what to think of this. This was unprecedented. It was unheard of. It was… It was so Stanley.

“Ya okay there?” Stanley asked.

Stanford looked over to see that his brother was now holding the blasted thing. The dog’s legs dangled limply and it looked perfectly content in his brother’s arms. Its tail swished rhythmically against Stanley’s legs.

“You’re really something else… You know that right?” He said to Stanley.

His brother grinned smugly.

“Of course I am.”

Stanford rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder.


End file.
